Blown Over

"The winds will blow their freshness into you...the storms, their energy."

The wind has picked up this evening. I am cold for the first time in months. My door squeaks as the hinges are forced another centimeter open by the breath of the wind. A chill runs down my spine into my toes and radiates energy into these character-filled wooden floor boards. Another squeak followed by another gust that presses my writing forward.

Although I miss the changing of seasons, the almost ceremonial changing of wardrobes, I am beginning to think that this water logged existence is a well kept secret. The wind here carries with it a gravity that seems to flow in from the water. A reprieve from the heat that remains comfortable.

Tonight, I can almost feel the gift that the wind bellows in. The gift of fall, of "winter" a season whose definition is sure to change in the eyes of this little one. I am aware that the warming of temperatures is most likely still around the corner before winter blankets this region in which I now live. Tonight however, I am thankful for the sound of squeaky hinges.

Indicative of changes that have recently blown through and over my terrain. Indicative of changes sure to come. Comforting in its swirling mess of things and bending palm trees. Yes, this wind is welcome.

I am so thankful for the turns my life has taken as of late and for these gifts, I have many to thank. Friends, both new and old, projected over telephone lines and plates of tacos, the friends and family I am blessed with humble me daily. The individuals that choose to speak and listen in equal turn. The people with whom I can laugh (and even snort if it's really funny) with, the people I am excited to get to know better, the people who have contributed to my survival and eventual thriving, here in Florida. Like the wind this evening, these people are a reprieve for which I am thankful.

Ushering in change with arms flung so widely that they may buckle at the shoulder, seems tonight, to have been a positive follow of gut instinct. I have learned recently that when a person embarks on a changing path, they must be able to bend and lean and crease in ways they may have never understood. Akin to the masters of yoga, the bending and leaning and creasing become habitual until they morph into natural and become comfortable. The beauty that one can find if willing to truly listen to their inner tickings is plentiful. The clearing out of clutter and cobwebs is the real work.

Once the space is clear...the heart and mind will follow.

Mixed Match Fabrics

My little piece of paradise...

No Seriously.

F This Noise.

(and yes, I am posting this on my blog so that I don't look like a 5th grader posting on facebook :).)

Impetus for change...

Impetus: A moving force; Impulse; Stimulous.

There have been many changes in my life recently:

Move 1,000 miles away from what you know as home: check.

Start a new job: check.

Live alone in an apartment: check.

Short of getting a divorce, I have managed to hit many of the life events that are on the "biggest stressors" list. I am happy to report that a divorce is not an option as I am fairly certain that stress would be the tipping point. With the support of family and friends (both in Florida and away from Florida), I am proud of the place that I am now. I am proud that I haven't yet allowed any of the stress I've experienced dissolve me into a puddle of messiness that would be inconvenient for myself and others to have to clean up.

I sat in my studio tonight and thought about who I am and who I want to become. I thought about the interesting nature of life and of a conversation I recently had with a kindred. A conversation that resulted in her filling me in that most of the time, we are already where we want to be, we just don't realize it.

I would be a story-teller upon story-teller if I said for one minute that my turning thirty just around the corner hasn't affected my thinking in general, especially as it relates to change. Thirty is not a "scary" age for me or an age that I am dreading. I am fully expecting to wake up thirty feeling exactly as I do now at twenty-nine.

There in lies the problem...

For the most part, I am sublimely happy with who I am. I've had experiences throughout the last four months that have reminded me that I am an intrisically kind, giving person and although others may take advantage and shit all over that part of me, that part still exists. There has always been though, a knowledge and awareness that I am not living exactly how I want to live. There is a part of me that, with every fiber that exists, is certain that I could change various parts about the way I live my life that A) would improve my life and B) would allow me to feel more at peace with the world around me.

And so...

I have decided what better impetus for change than a birthday? What better milestone or urging can you have in life than a day where you celebrate your life itself and the individuals that have made it worth it...that have made it meaningful...that have made it memorable?

More to come because if I've learned anything in my almost thirty years, it's that blogging at 11:31pm about big fat changes you're going to make is quite possibly the worst way in which to plan lasting changes.

"If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid."

Speechless

Not sure how to make the ends of this one meet...

Garden State is one of my favorite films. Arguably, it should be one of everyone's favorite films. The soundtrack alone could really drive a good evening into a good morning into the afternoon. Sure, it has it's moments of theatrical Hollywood nonsense that will, most certainly, creep it's ugly way into every flick made from here on out. In the end though, moments exist in this film that allow the watcher to feel connected and understand the goings-on of life just a little clearer or less clear, as the case may be.

"You're in it right now." Shutters. Goose bumps. Reality hitting the walls of the mind that one attempts so cleverly to vail. This line alone. And that, my friends, is how movies are made.

Although I could sit on my stool and scribe an entire blog about my endless love for gs, the truth is, this one line, this one piece of script, is what jumps to mind this evening as I attempt to put into words what the grey matter swarming around is computing.

Cannot compute. Error Message. Little yellow, annoying exclamation point. Yes to all of the above.

I am not certain if I am so "in it" that I cannot see the forest for the trees or if I am so not invested in it that my mind (and little beating heart) refuse to attempt to see anything past the point of my little lopsided nose. (It really is lopsided...take a look next time you're face to face with the Lizzy B).

So good to be back in Florida although leaving my family and friends was difficult, I came back knowing that this was home and threw myself head first into making that notion a fact. Honesty. Is it really that difficult? Are we a people that have become incapable of just speaking what is truth? Are we a people that thrive so insanely on the feeling of presenting our feathers, all beautiful and vibrant in color that we do not dare admit that the humidity is doing a number and ruffling the hell out of our beauty?

I am in a place of duality. I stand, firmly, in a place of a split heart. You know...the hearts that we drew when we were in middle school and some little meany made us angry. If I were a betting woman, I would say I am one or two weeks away from screen-printing a split heart on a t-shirt and screaming my story at the top of my lungs to innocent passers-by who dare to ask what message t "means."

Because if I were to stand on a street corner and purge forth the reason for the screen-printing extravagance...it would be honest. At least it would be honest.

Lady is hungry for some honesty.

A good trip home. A safe place. A place surrounded with love. Palpable. Real. Honest. Love.